18 January 2006

I thought I’d never work at a paper smaller than The Riverdale Press. But the robust reporting staff of three, plus the part-time sports editor, the truly insane but unfailingly nice part-time lifestyle editor and superiors who occasionally contributed to the reporting, we had Riverdale covered.

Well, I was wrong. The Focus action news team consists of Shyaka, myself, our lone reporter Helen and two designers – a Kenyan named Vincent and a Belgian whose given name is Erwin Winkler but we now call the Fonz. Shyaka didn’t know who Arthur Fonzarelli was, but now that he’s done the research approves of the name change. Our Fonz knew whom I was talking about immediately.

A Fonz citing is like finding Big Foot. Every once in a while he floats into the office (he has other contracts) and works on our little newspaper. He’s quite good, by the way. But more often Shyaka is calling and text-messaging him, trying to figure out where the Fonz is. Today he had a toothache, which can be very debilitating. Shyaka says the Fonz has been here too long, about seven years, and Rwanda is giving him a nervous breakdown. Sadly, since Rwanda is landlocked, he is not out jumping sharks.

People sometimes get the Fonz and me confused. He’s elfin and skinny, with curly brown hair that comes down to his shoulders. His skin is graying from smoking and he has a pointy nose and far skinnier lips. He also has a Flemish-Belgian accent, far different from mine. I sound like I’m from New York. But since we’re both white, we’re obviously brothers.

The first edition is slated to come out at the beginning of February. I think we’re going to make it, but we keep dumping stories on Helen, and Shyaka has to do some as well. I’m contributing at least one business story and maybe a bit on the cholera from last week. We’ll see. The problem with a monthly newspaper is the news sometimes passes you by.

The paper is supposed to be 40 pages. We have about 20 already filled with stories, photos and opinion columns. Advertisers are coming, but slowly. We actually have about 30 pages if you count the stories we’re still working on.

The biggest problem we’re facing is the Rwandan aversion to risk. Everyone we talk to about working with us wants to see the newsboys hawking the paper before they sign on to join. Well, until we get the ideally eight reporters, we’re going to have a problem getting the paper out. We also need advertising people (although the rumor is we’ve got a guy who is waiting for the paper to be out), an office manager (we may have one of those) and more computers it’s going to be a slog. A better photographer would be nice too, but I’ll have to do.

Our plan is to steal reporters from the other papers when they see how good we are. Our stories will be readable, partly due to my editing. And we’re also selling my editing. I’m supposed to make these guys better. We’re getting a white board and I’ll essentially be teaching classes. “How many of you guys know what the inverted pyramid is? Most important information on top, and move down the line. Nobody?” Reporters here tend to just write what each person told them in the order they did the interviews. That’s why the stories make no sense.

I think my own biggest problem, which will come as no surprise, is that I speak to fast. All the Africans I work with complain about my American accent (What other accent should I have? I don’t complain about theirs) and the astonishing rate the words come out of my mouth. The explanation that I’m from New York and we don’t have time to talk slow often falls on deaf ears. Or they don’t understand because I said it in a blur. Helen finds it funny that neither Vincent nor I speak Kinyarwanda. I explained that it’s not exactly a world language that people learn in school. She pointed out that she grew up in Uganda but speaks Kinyarwanda. “But you’re Rwandan,” I said. “You spoke it at home. And you can’t write in it anyway.”

Despite those obstacles, we’re cooking along. We’re disorganized. We have a skeletal staff. Our bookkeeping is practically nonexistent. We’re small, and we don’t even have an issue out there. But we’re the best damn newspaper in this country.